Boots fit girls down to the ground

True, but don't ask me quite why

Calfskin moulds itself to any form

Yours were the colour of the sky

Red boots smack of aggression

Yellow a hint of primrose flower

But blue sends a potent message

A promise of love and soft power

Blue varnished boots tread softly

Only ballet shoes look so neat

Yours, though scuffed and worn

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I recently stumbled upon a website which had the letters written by Vincent Van Gogh to his brother, family and friends. Completely absorbed I was lost to research for hours on end, compelled to learn more of this painters fascinating life story. Here is the resulting “found” poem which uses lines written by Van Gogh himself to describe his experiences, collated in a way which hopefully does justi...

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carrots, apples spuds and fish
chocolate brownies, a porcelain dish
jeans and jumpers, pots and pans
stockings, bras and ornate fans
paintings of the lacal town
jackets, bags and a dressing gown
onsies that look like Donald duck
sweets to chew and sweets to suck
DVDs and home made jam
vinyl records by bross and wham!
perfume, deodorant, talk and soap

yorkshire parkin and a cantelope
...

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Dead Men’s Boots

tough as old leather
their souls worn down
eyes vacant of lace
collected by the door
the day they swapped
their pit-boots
for the Kings shilling
and donned their shiny
new military issue

there they stayed
gathering dust
and old potatoes
in their safe grasp
neatly lined
waiting for the return
of father and two sons
to the safety
of their hearth

day after da...

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